


His name is Grumpy Cat

by nana_banana



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kate Argent conversation, Language, M/M, Teen Wolf in Harry Potter's world, grumpy cat meme, if you squint really hard you might see some kate/derek, mention of Severus Snape - Freeform, mentions of Hale Fire, mentions of Scallison, sorry about the meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nana_banana/pseuds/nana_banana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a place to learn magic and possibly ways to prank people you don't like, though they still won't include that in the Hogwarts acceptance letter. Stiles Stilinski stalks the school, searching for the perfect prank, but he's caught by the Head Boy. And while he definitely doesn't plan it, Stiles finds himself running for his life through the halls of the castle in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His name is Grumpy Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys. I had this idea forming in my head, so here it is. Note that this all takes place FOUR years before Harry Potter enters Hogwarts, so yeah.

It is dark in the library. The moonlight filters through the windows lazily, casting deep, dark, ominous-looking shadows among the hundreds of shelves.

_So close. Almost there. God, please just let me..._

Stiles tries to extend his arm further, the tips of his fingers brushing the bottom of the worn book, doing his best to stay quiet. It must have been no later the one o'clock in the morning and he was a student out of bed. It is safe to say that if he were caught, there would be dire consequences. Maiming, possibly, maybe even a little death. Stiles Stilinski expected nothing less than a little maiming at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Which is why he so desperately needed to stay quiet as a mouse –

Or maybe not a mouse, considering Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was probably stalking the school at that very moment and he did not want her to catch him and alert Argus Filch. Because as he stated before, _maiming would happen._ Stiles shudders to think what Filch would do to him if the old man found him outside the Slytherin dormitory. In the library wearing a cape (on which Stiles had taken the liberty of ironing his House crest because he was in a freaking wizard school!) and a mask, no less.

Oddly enough, the only thing that came to Stiles' mind at the thought of Filch catching him was _thumb screws._

The pale boy shift s his footing on the large bookshelf he'd climbed and reache s again,  regretting that he forgot his wand.

_Oh, come on. I'm almost friggin' there!_

“What do you think you're doing?” The sharp voice punctures the silence and Stiles squeaks as he whips his head around. His movement costs him dearly as his foot slips off the shelf – _Fuck!_

Stiles scrambles to grab a hold of something, anything, but he was already falling. He braces himself for the impact and inevitable pain, scrunching his eyes shut. But when the pain didn't come, he opens his eyes to see an extremely grumpy face.

_Grumpy cat!_

A dark-haired,  scruffy-faced Head Boy stare s back at him, wand raised  and unamused . Stiles frown s . Something wasn't right here.

“Why are you upside down?” Stiles asks the guy.

“I'm _not_ ,” came the curt reply. The scowling face only soured more. Stiles then realized he was floating upside down in midair, held aloft by the Head Boy's wand.

“Oh, _dude!_ That is _cool,_ how did you do that? You didn't even _say_ anything!  So _fast_ , too.” Grumpy-Cat-Head-Boy (Stiles really needed to lay off the internet when he went home for the holidays) did not appear the least bit amused by Stiles. Stiles thought that to be highly unfortunate. He was sure the older boy would look gorgeous with a smile, even if it was just a smirk.

“You didn't answer my question,” says the Head Boy. Stiles swearsthe guy was only getting grouchier by the second. “What are you doing?” he bit out once more, quickly adding, “and what are you _wearing?"_  


Stiles  struggles to  look down  (up?) to see his batman costume,  making a little wriggle in his attempt . He shrugs,  letting his arms hang loosely towards the floor . He'd chosen to wear  the attire on a whim since he thought it would help him blend into the dark.  Batman  _was_ the night, after all. Plus it gave him mystique and the mask was  _awesome_ . 

Stiles bites at his lip  as he quickly fetche s for an excuse  to his little rendezvous at the school library in the middle of the night. “I'm … looking for something?”  Stiles hates how it comes out like a question, high-pitched and wavering, like an obvious lie.  And while it wasn't  exactly a lie, it didn't stop the Head Boy from giving him the stink eye.

“What are you looking for?” He asks suspiciously.

“Something of mine that I misplaced earlier,” says Stiles.

Grumpy Cat doesn't buy it for a second. Which really wasn't fair. Stiles could have _totally_ left a quill there earlier when he and his best bud were studying (more like goofing off).

“And you thought you'd get out of bed at one in the morning to retrieve it?” Stiles winces. So maybe Grumpy Cat was right. There wasn't really any acceptable reason to be out of bed so late, even if he _had_ misplaced his quill.

“It was important?” Stiles inwardly groaned. Why were his answers still coming out like questions, full of hesitation like he was lying? _Oh, that's right._ It's because he _was_.

“In the _Restricted_ Section?” Stiles really didn't like how that came out.

“What are you trying to say?” he demanded of the man currently holding a wand to his face. In retrospect, maybe it wasn't his smartest move.

“You're a fourth year,” says Grumpy Cat with such derision in his voice and Stiles definitely does _not_ find him cute at all. Nope.

“How do you know that?”

“You tripped on your way to the sorting hat three years ago. Not hard to remember someone who embarrasses themselves on their first night,” he smirks.

Stiles was wrong. He was so, so wrong. Grumpy Cat did  _not_ look good with a smirk. It was in no way flattering.  He hated the very sight of it and wanted to wipe it off Grumpy Cat's  beautiful,  super-puberty- scruff ed face with his fist.  Seriously, there had to be magic involved with this guy's development!

“You know,” Stiles says crossly, “as much as I appreciate your lame flirting, I'd be really grateful if you let me down now.” He was starting to get dizzy, what with all the blood currently rushing to his head, but instead of listening to Stiles, Grumpy Cat's eyes narrowed into a frown once more.

“I wasn't flirting,” he says, miffed, as though he were thoroughly offended by the idea, that, in no way, hurt Stiles' feelings. _No, it did not._ “You're like _fourteen._ ”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Stiles asked, “For your information, Grumpy Cat, I'm like only three years younger than you –”

“ _Grumpy_ _cat?_ ” Stiles frowned. Had that really been the only thing the Head Boy had registered?

“It's a _meme_ from _internet_ , you _neanderthal_ –”

“I know what a _meme_ is, you insolent brat!”  Stiles felt a sharp spike of anger at that.

“Dude, you're _three years older,_ not a thousand! Wait – how do you know Grumpy Cat?”  Stiles flails in the air. He really needed to be let down soon.

“How do _you_ know Grumpy Cat?” was the wary retort.

Stiles chew s the inside of his lip, debating whether to answer truthfully or to completely fib. He open s his mouth to lie his ass off,  because why would he tell the truth otherwise, but what came out instead was, “I'm muggle-born.” Stiles deflate s . He'd definitely not been planning on revealing that to  _anyone_ .  It was one of his most well-kept secrets.  Like his first name.  (He  was sure half the staff didn't actually  kn o w his real name.) Of course, his classmates, who only cared about the  prestigiousness of  pure blood lines thought him to be half-blood. Though, had they  bothered to  research him thoroughly, they'd have found his family had not one inkling of magic. Stiles was thankful they had barely bothered to scrape at the surface.

“But you're in _Slytherin,"_  spat Grumpy Cat upon seeing the House crest as if the very name of Stiles' House was poison in his mouth.

“What's your _point?"_  Stiles glares at him. Did the Head Boy think a muggle-born couldn't be in Slytherin? It wasn't impossible. He was proof of that! Granted, there were times the stone wall entrance to the Slytherin common room refused to open up to him, even when he said the password _correctly_.

Regardless, Stiles was in Slytherin and he would  _stay_ in Slytherin, dammit! He didn't even think it possible to  change Houses.

“Whatever your point is,” Stiles says when the other didn't answer him, “I hope you keep that little bit of information to yourself. No one actually knows that I'm...” he trails off.

“I'm muggle-born too,” responds Grumpy Cat, his voice oddly soft. “Derek,” he says.

“What?”

“My name,” says Derek.

Stiles felt himself light up in an instant. A grin stretched across his face.

“Good. Now I can stop calling you Grumpy Cat,” Stiles says.

“Why is that even an option?” asks Derek, though he doesn't actually seem very irritated.

“Have you _seen_ your face?”

“You do realize a painful fall is highly possible for you?” Stiles clamps his mouth shut, but Derek is grinning. “Mind telling me what you're _really_ doing out of bed in the Restricted Section at one o'clock in the morning?” Derek's grin  slips away into something a little more serious. Stiles hums in indifference.

“Well, since I'm getting in trouble anyway, I guess I'll tell you. I'm looking for a cookbook,” says Stiles with a straight face. Derek's visage falters as confusion overtakes him.

“How is it that you're not lying?” he says. Stiles gives him a look.

“Uh, maybe because I'm not?” he says exasperatedly. Before Derek has a chance to refute his claim, a loud creak interrupts them. Derek twists around, waving his wand to set Stiles down softly, but abruptly enough that he makes a noise of surprise. Derek's quick to clamp a hand over Stiles' mouth, dragging him bodily behind a shelf as Stiles struggles to make his world stop spinning and the blood in his body to stop speeding everywhere at once.

“It's Mrs. Norris,” Derek hisses into Stiles' ear. Stiles shivers against him, but not from the cold, feeling rather unlucky in Derek'shaphazard embrace. Derek's hand twitches over his mouth and Stiles is suddenly paranoid that Derek knows just how interested Stiles' traitorous body is at the moment. He doesn't even stop to consider how weird it is that Derek knows for certain it was Filch's cat who made the noise and was currently in the library. The cavernous place was silent as it had been before, but Derek was tense behind him and Stiles didn't think to move away.

Any doubt there could have been about whether or not Filch's cat was prowling about was shot dead when the cat sauntered around the bookshelf and planted its butt firmly in the middle of the corridor. She gazes at them with her judging, yellow eyes and Derek clears his throat.

“I'm just about to report him for being up late. You can leave,” Derek says to the cat. Stiles roles his eyes because, yes, Derek is indeed talking to a cat. The ridiculousness of the situation is not lost on him. But he most definitely was in trouble if the cat was there already. The cat meows at them, _loudly._

“Fuck.” Derek whirls his wand towards the cat, a red spell hitting the cat deadon. Stiles feels his mouth fall open is shock.

“ _Did you seriously just stun Mrs. Norris?”_

Derek rounds on him with a grimace.

“I'm not actually supposed to be in here!” Derek whispers furiously at Stiles and it dawns on the young teen that he wasn't the only one who could potentially be in trouble right now.

“Overreaction much? Wait, you're breaking a rule too, aren't you?” Stiles says, scandalously excited. Derek fidgets nervously and Stiles is gaping joyously. “You totally freaking are! Oh, my god, I am in love with you right now. Were you looking for illegal potions too?” Stiles is grinning and Derek is glaring at him again.

“Shut up!” he grits out as quiet as he can, but Stiles is bouncing on his feet, ecstatic. Derek, the Head Boy is breaking some rule and that's why he hadn't immediately ratted him out when Derek had discovered Stiles snooping around in the middle of the night.

Just then, the blood drained from Derek's face and before Stiles could ask what was wrong, he heard it.

The quick, shuffling gait. The wheezing. It was  _Argus Filch_ and he was heading towards them  fast!

“Holy guacamole, I think it's time to scram, Robin!” Derek seized Stiles' hand without hesitation, frowning at him as he stuffs his wand back into his robes.

“In this scenario, there's no way I'm Robin,” he says seriously before yanking Stiles' down through the shelves and out a side door black cape billowing out behind Stiles. The boy realizes as they're hurrying forward, that he had never actually been through this hallway before. He vaguely wonders if the door they'd escaped through had always been there. He certainly didn't remember it. Stiles is brought back from his reverie when Derek pulls him to a stop. He looks around to see they're in an unused classroom. The desks and chairs are neatly stacked against the wall and though the room isn't in use, there isn't a speck of dust in sight. Albeit what _is_ it sight is the last thing Stiles wants to see.

“What's this?” Derek freezes from where he's watching the hallway and turns. In the middle of the room, unscrewing the chandelier, is Peeves, the school poltergeist. Derek is reaching for his wand, but Peeves is much too quick for him, already belting out an alarm at the top of his voice.

" _STUDENTS OUT OF BED, STUDENTS OUT OF BED, STUDENTS OUT OF BEEEED!”_

Derek curses loudly as he sends a silver-colored spell Peeves' way. Without checking to see if it made contact, he grabs Stiles' arm and bolts out of the room.

They're halfway down the hall when they hear Filch's wheezy, huffing voice behind them.

“I see you, you bloody children! Stop!”

Stiles has absolutely no intention of listening to Filch and to his credit, neither does Derek. The boys pick up their pace, Derek half-pulling Stiles along. While Stiles is no track star, he isn't slow either, but at the rate Derek's running, if he weren't holding Stiles' arm, Stiles was sure he'd be left in Derek's dust.

“In here!” Derek shoves Stiles through a tapestry, which is surprisingly hollow. Stiles looks around to see that they're on a staircase now. But Derek still isn't stopping, and Stiles finds himself being led up the stairs at a merciless rate. The castle is silent around them but for the small snores coming from the portraits around them. They can't even hear Filch anymore. Derek is rushing down past the doors and Stiles is starting to feel a stitch in his side. He wants to tell Derek to stop, but then Derek is stopping beside a statue and hurriedly whispering, “Soft lavender!”

The door opens and Derek pushes Stiles inside, closing the door quickly, but quietly. Stiles looks around the place they're in, breathing in sharply at the sight of the bath that's the size of a swimming pool. He walks towards it, barely glancing at the toilet stalls, mouth open in awe, footsteps echoing. On the far wall are stained glass windows. Depicted in the middle is a mermaid sleeping on a rock. She's moving as she breathes quietly and that impresses Stiles most of all. Derek is still at the door, listening intently for any sound and Stiles figures they're safe for now.

He can see dozens of taps with different jewels and his fingers ache to turn every single one. He reaches for a bright red-jeweled tap and almost shrieks when a pale pig-tailed ghost pops her head out of it.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, nose scrunched in curiosity.

Stiles calms his racing heart and blinks at her.

“Wait, aren't you Moan –”

“Myrtle!” Derek interrupts Stiles, hoping the young teen hadn't set her off. He knew the freckled ghost to be volatile with her emotions. And now was a terrible time to send her into a fit.

She looks up and a bright, flirty smile overtakes her mouth.

“Derek!” she simpers, “it's been a while since I've seen you around here. Have you come to take a bath?” Stiles raised both eyebrows in surprise. The ghost had a crush on Derek! He turned to give Derek a mischievous smirk, that the older boy pointedly ignored.

“Ah, no. Actually, we're hiding. It's good to see you, though,” he says. Myrtle bats her eyelids and perks up even more at Derek's comment. Stiles rolls his eyes because he can't believe that the ghost actually has a major crush on Derek. He didn't dare admit to himself that she wasn't the only one.

“Ooh, I can help” she says, “I can scout for you!”

“Would you?”

Myrtle doesn't even respond. She whizzes past them and through the wall. Stiles gives Derek his most bemused expression and Derek actually _growls_ at him. Like a dog and it's _very_ intriguing.

“Not a word,” he threatens the young teen. Stiles shrugs and takes a breath.

“So what were you doing in the library?” he asks instead of teasing Derek for the huge crush Moaning Myrtle has on him. Not that he could blame her. Derek was incredibly attractive. Even his insecurities about being bi-curious couldn't blindfold him from that.

“What were _you_ doing in the library?” is Derek's predictable counter.

“Fine,” Stiles concedes, “You know that seeker on the Gryffindor team?” Stiles huffs, “Wait, what am I talking about, of _course_ you know the stupid Gryffindor seeker. You're _in_ Gryffindor!” Derek's eyes narrow and Stiles' feels his mouth twist in distaste.

“You mean Weasley, Charlie Weasley?” Derek says and Stiles nods, rolling his eyes so hard, he thinks he can see brain.

“Yes, that annoying, little prat.” Stiles sits at the edge of the pool, letting his feet dangle over the edge. “He's been getting a little too big for his britches, if you know what I mean, so I just wanted to knock him down a few pegs and find a potion to turn him into the toad that he is.” Derek comes to stand next to him, giving Stiles such a hard stare that Stiles squirms a little under his gaze. “What!” he finally snaps.

Derek glowers. “You were going to turn him into a _toad?_ With a _potion?_ From a book in the _Restricted Section?_ ”

“Yeah, so?” but Stiles is all bravado.

“ _So_ there's a _reason_ that those books are in the Restricted Section! There's a reason that only sixth and seventh years are allowed in there and brats like you need a note signed by a teacher to even ask for one! They're _dangerous_ and I'm so glad I caught you before you could actually do any damage.” Stiles crosses his arms and pouts, cowed into feeling guilty.

“Well, when you say it like _that,"_  he says petulantly, not meeting Derek's eye. Derek rubs his hands across his face in irritation and takes a seat next to Stiles. He lets out a heavy breath. Stiles is sure that Derek's thinking the worst of him at that moment.

“You're an idiot,” he tells Stiles, who balks at the comment, but says nothing, “especially since you could have just bribed a seventh year to transfigure him into a toad _for_ you. Because you're right, that little brat is getting on my nerves too and _I_ have to share a common room with him.” Stiles lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as he laughs at Derek's comment. When he meets the guy's eye, he's relieved to see a wry grin on the older teen's face.

“I knew I wasn't the only to find him annoying!” he says cheerily, “It's a wonder the things in our Care of Magical Creatures class all love him on sight.” Derek nods.

“He is pretty good with them,” he comments idly. He knocks Stile's shoulder with his own. “You know,” Derek says, “he's actually not that bad when you get to know him. He's just a little big-headed. Anyway, Scott's worse. He's the main reason Gryffindor loses whenever we play against Ravenclaw –”

“Oh, don't you dare smack talk my best friend!” Stiles jabs Derek in his arm and Derek blanches.

“Oh, god, that lovesick moron is your best friend?” Stiles jabs him again for the insult and nods.

“Yeah, but he's _my_ moron and lay off him. He thinks he's in love with that Allison girl. He just needs a little time to grow up and realize that she didn't actually put the sun in the sky.” Derek snorts at that and shakes his head when Stiles gives him a look. But Stiles relents and laughs along.

“Please tell me you're not as hopeless as Scott is,” Derek jokes and Stiles gives him a smug grin.

“Nope, my motto is to have both feet planted firmly on the ground at all times except when I'm catching a snitch and sequentially winning a match.”

“Huh, I was wondering why Slytherin was doing so badly this yea – _oomph!"_ Stiles retracts his elbow from Derek's stomach and pouts.

“I'm the best seeker to ever seek, you jerk.” Derek is smiling at him, though, and Stiles is finding it hard to stay mad at that smile.

“I'll admit that I've never actually seen you play,” Derek says regretfully, “I don't usually go to the Quidditch matches.” Stiles can feel an opportunity there and he knows it's his chance to extend his hand to Derek in a possible friendship. And if Stiles ever stops being confused about what he wants, possibly more than that.

“Maybe you could come to my next match to cheer me on?” he says offhandedly, but truthfully, he really wants Derek to say yes.

“Well, if I ever want to know how you play, I'll have to come watch you, don't you think?”

Stiles feels his mouth go dry.

“Yeah,” he responds, “so come see a match sometime, you big lug.” Derek snickers and nods. “Now it's your turn,” Stiles says, “what were _you_ doing in the library?” Derek doesn't meet his eye when he answers.

I was supposed to be in bed like you,” he mutters, “but I like sneaking into the library to look up myths and things. I like to research cures and the beginnings of ailments and afflictions. Like vampire bites. Research ways to cure people who've got to live with it.” Stiles doesn't buy it. Derek could do all of that during the day when there was no danger of anyone taking away his Head Boy badge.

“You realize, of course, that you can actually do that in the day time?” Derek doesn't answer him.

“So,” says Stiles, ready for a change of subject, “think our current D.A.D.A. teacher will kick the bucket this year?” Derek shrugs noncommittally, suddenly closed off.

“I honestly wouldn't mind it if Professor _Argent_ took a swan dive off the Astronomy tower,” he mutters darkly. Derek is tense and Stiles can't help but think that he'd just wandered onto a minefield.

“Wow, what'd she _do_ to you? You don't have to answer that. It sounds personal, like _really_ personal.” Stiles shifts uncomfortably and Derek sighs.

“She might have murdered an entire family in cold blood two years ago,” Derek started with a voice full of false indifference. “It was arson. They couldn't prove it, but I know it was her,” Derek's voice lowered to a hoarse whisper and he knew Derek was no longer speaking to him. “It _had_ to be her,” his voice was torn. Stiles hated that their fun conversation had turned so dark. He was also positive that Derek had completely forgotten his presence. “She was the only one who _knew."_

Stiles places a comforting hand on Derek's shoulder. He knows it isn't anything, but he hopes that reminding Derek of his presence would break him from the dark path they'd happened on. Derek's eyes flash blue for a brief second and Stiles squeezes his shoulder without meaning to.

“...it was your family she murdered,” Stiles understands now and he feels hollow. He feels the vast hole of sorrow that Derek must be feeling at the moment because he _knows_ now. He's realized everything and filled all the blanks. Stiles doesn't notice how stiff Derek has become. “She's a werewolf hunter and your family was a pack of werewolves. I'm right, aren't I? Oh, my god,” Stiles breathes, horrified. He remembers that Derek had said he was muggle-born and it makes him feel a million times sicker. They hadn't stood a chance against a witch.

“God, you must feel so awful being in the same school with that evil...” Stiles can't even find a word ugly enough to describe Professor Argent. “How is she even _teaching_ here? Surely they can't let her teach here! She's a suspect, right?” Derek shakes his head, but he's staring at Stiles like he's never seen the boy before.

“There was no evidence. Her brother's family backed her up. The muggle police ruled it a freak accident. Anyway, not many people want the job in the first place … how are you okay with this?”

Stiles can only gawp at Derek. What did he mean by that? He was completely certain that he was _not_ okay with this!

“Dude, I am so _not_ okay with this! How can anyone be okay with that demon in a human meat suit walking around –”

“No,” Derek covers Stiles' mouth with his hand, forehead creased, “I mean … how are you okay with me being a werewolf? And how exactly did you figure that out? I'm still not sure.”

He releases the teen's mouth and Stiles takes a deep breath, clearing his throat.“Long story short, I tend to research every teacher I get to make sure they're not a psychotic murderer or something (it's a habit), but all I found on Kate was her being an infamous werewolf hunter. So I got the werewolf thing from there” – Stiles suddenly remembered something – “Also, careful with Snape, that guy has issues up the hoo-haa.” Derek makes a weird face at him and Stiles plows on, “And I read something about a fire and her being accused, but cleared of all charges. As with me being okay with it? Dude, you've been here seven years and _haven't_ killed anyone.

“Pretty _sure_ that means you're safe. Also, I think it's really cool that you're a werewolf. I really like the blue flashy thing your eyes did, which confirmed the whole thing, really. That's some major supernatural thing right there and, honestly even if you were a big, bad wolf, I'd still be okay with it because you're really cute –”

Stiles freezes when Derek covers his mouth with his hand again, a sly smirk in place.

“You think I'm cute?” And just like that, Stiles is glad he doesn't have a filter for his mouth. The dark cloud is gone to visit another day and Stiles really wants to see Derek smile more.

“I'm neither confirming or denying that, you pedophile.” Stiles smiles at Derek. Maybe just this once, he can be comfortable and brave enough in his own skin to admit things he usually couldn't even begin to discus with himself. Derek laughs.

“Technically still sixteen. My birthday is next month, but yeah, wouldn't want me turning into Charlie.” Stiles laughs so hard and so abruptly, that it comes out as a long snort and he's mortified, but Derek is laughing and Stiles can stand to be painfully embarrassed if it means that Derek gets to have more smiles in his life. He's about to tell Derek to take full advantage of being young while he still can, when Myrtle comes floating in, looking quite serene.

“The coast is clear,” her voice echoes. Both boys are brought back to reality in an instant. They were still in hiding. “To both your common rooms,” she adds as an afterthought. Derek nods and his serious, Grumpy Cat face is back, or maybe, now that he knew Derek was a werewolf, it was more like sour wolf. Stiles wishes Myrtle had been gone just a bit longer.

“Come on,” Derek takes his hand and leads him out of the bathroom as Myrtle tags along, floating idly by, but not saying a word. Stiles has a hunch that she'd been around a little longer than they actually knew.

They get to the entrance of the Slytherin common room and Stiles notices that Myrtle is hanging back, a secret smile on her face.

Derek is glancing around, but Stiles is sure that with Derek's apparent super-hearing, he'd hear when someone was coming and take off with time to spare. Stiles is uncertain as he fidgets next to Derek. He knows both of them look awkward just standing around in front of a stone wall, but neither of them wants to say goodbye.

It's silly, but Stiles feels that saying goodbye to Derek would be too final. He's positive it could cause a rift between them. Stiles knows everything is in his head, but he and Derek made a connection tonight and he doesn't want to break it with the wrong words.

Fortunately, Derek is the first to act.

The older teen reaches for Stiles' mask, gently prying it off his head. Stiles hair is messy, his amber eyes wide. He's worried that Derek's made a big mistake by revealing his true identity (not that he had planned on keeping it a secret), but Derek only grins at him.

“It's nice to know you have a face under that thing.” Stiles feels a grin begin to pull at his cheeks against his will, but he lets it. He'd never deny Derek a smile.

“What, you like?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Stiles can see the flush on Derek's cheeks even in the darkness and he feels elated by it.

“Shut up, Batman,” Derek grumbles, smooshing the mask back into Stiles' face and mussing his hair further. He takes the mask back with a chuckle.

“Stiles,” he corrects softly.

“Stiles,” Derek nods at the name, whispering it mostly to himself. “Odd name,” he muses. Stiles pulls a face and lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug.

“It's better than my real name. _Pienim,"_  he makes a gagging noise and chuckles. “My mom named me,” he says, “but it's too complicated for people to know it. They usually butcher the pronunciation, so Stiles is better. Don't tell anyone my real name. Not even Scott knows.” Derek seems to contemplate the name for a moment before giving him an odd look.

“So why do I get to know your name?”

“You're an awesome werewolf. You get special treatment,” Stiles winks. It comes off awkward and Derek laughs.

“Good to know,” is all he says. There's a finality in Derek's tone that lets Stiles know it's time to say goodbye.

“Maybe I'll see you tomorrow,” Derek says gently and Stiles forces himself to not look like a kicked puppy. It was really goodbye. Stiles didn't think there was a real chance to see Derek again. Derek was a seventh year and a Gryffindor. Stiles was just a fourth year in Slytherin. They could probably manage to see each other a few times over the next couple of months, but soon Derek's classes would get too hard in preparation for his N.E.W.T.s. There was also the fact that they both had friends of their own. Stiles would be an odd addition to Derek's crew.

“Yeah, maybe.” Stiles breath left him when Derek leaned in to press a kiss to Stiles' cheek.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Derek whispers into his cheek.

Stiles wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around Derek and never let go. _I just found you,_ he thinks morosely.

“Goodnight, Derek.” Derek pulls way leaves without another word, not even a glance behind. Stiles waits until Derek turns the corner to let his face fall with the misery he actually feels.

Sighing, he utters the password and the stone opens without protest. It was almost as if the dormitory itself knew not to kick someone when they were already down. He barely makes it to his four poster bed before collapsing in exhaustion.

▪▪▪▪

Stiles wakes up the next morning to a stern-faced Vernon Boyd.

“Stiles,” he says in his smooth voice, “we're now officially late for Transfiguration.” Stiles bolts out of bed, hastily changing into his robes and pulling his wand from his dresser where he'd left it last night. Stiles had forgotten it then, but Professor McGonagall would turn him into a parrot if he forgot it today.

“Why didn't you wake me earlier?” he cried out to Boyd who watched him with an annoyed expression on his face.

“I tried,” he huffed, “but all you'd do each time I did was tell me to leave you alone because of some grumpy cat or something. Then you'd roll over and fall asleep again.” He crossed his arms as he waited for Stiles to grab his books. It was a true testament to their friendship that Boyd hadn't just left him in bed and gone to class on his own. But now he'd missed breakfast, and by the smell if it, Boyd hadn't. He grouchily slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and as though reading his mind, Boyd produced a napkin from nowhere. Tucked neatly in it were two slices of toast with jam.

“Wow, Boyd, I really love you!” He snatches the pieces of toast with one hand and Boyd's warm hand with the other and rushes from the room. They were almost there when the boys were met with a large crowd. Something big was going on if the way everyone hooted and hollered was any indication, but Stiles didn't have time for this!

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Stiles curses as he tries to find a way around it.

“What in the world is going on here?” He stills at Minerva McGonagall's voice. Students are moving aside and Stiles forces his way through the crowd, dragging Boyd behind him. He breaks to the edge of the inner circle and hovers there, glancing about the scene. There's a handsome, red-haired teen holding what appears to be a heavy, dumpy-looking, wriggling toad.

“Professor,” says the teen, “someone turned my little brother into a toad!” Stiles suddenly recognizes the teen as William Weasley, big brother to Charlie Weasley, now a toad. A piercing hope runs through him and he's looking around frantically.

He's about to shove his way to the front of everyone when he sees Derek, standing innocently on the sidelines. The older boy is even better-looking in the daylight. His skin is tan, smooth and beautiful, his gorgeous eyes are green and amazing. Their gazes meet and Derek winks at him before subtly disappearing into the crowd. A large grin breaks out on Stiles' face and he feels his heart lift from the depths of miserable swamp it struggled through the night before. Maybe there was a chance for them after all.

“Wow, Grumpy Cat,” he whispers and he knows Derek can hear him, “looks like bribing a seventh year is better than making a sloppy potion.” Professor McGonagall is clearing the crowd, having already turned Charlie back into a human being. His older brother, William, helps the half-hopping boy into McGonagall's classroom where he and Stiles were to take Transfiguration. William is still upset someone had turned his brother into a toad. Stiles catches sight of Derek leaning against a wall, seemingly undisturbed with the happenings around him. He grins at Derek's lounging form.

“Wish I knew what I'd bribed you with.” Derek remains unresponsive and Stiles struggles to think up something witty enough to make Derek break character. The Transfiguration professor is ushering Boyd into her class and giving Stiles a glare, so he starts to follow her. But just before he can lose his chance, he says in a last-ditch effort, “You know Derek, instead of Grumpy Cat, I'm going to start calling you sourwolf.”

Stiles will later agree that seeing Derek choke on his snort is worth being the guinea pig for Professor McGonagall's lectures the rest of the week.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this. Please let me know what you think in the comments section below.  
> Btw, don't worry, I'll be updating "All I Know Is This" very soon.


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